Clove's Reaping
by Mattea
Summary: My version of Clove's reaping. I wrote this for school, and decided to put it up on here. One shot. Please read and review!


Mattea Miller

Nov. 26th, 2013

Final Draft Narrative

Clove's Reaping

I awoke with the sun streaming through the windows of my room. I sat up straight in my bed, as a rush of adrenaline came through my body. It was the day of the reaping for the Hunger Games. Before I knew it, my reaping dress was on me, my teeth had been brushed, and my hair was in a high ponytail.

I headed to the kitchen of my house, where my mother and twin siblings, Elm and Lilly, were waiting for me. We were one of the wealthier families in District 2, with my father employed as a peace keeper, and my mother working as a seamstress. I will also add to my family's wealth, by becoming the victor of this year's games. Ahh... I can hear Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman's voices, "Clove, victor of the 74th annual Hunger Games!"

I ate my breakfast of bread and butter, and then headed to my backyard. It was small, bordered with an old wooden fence. I had some targets made out of flour sacks and cardboard set up to throw knives or shoot arrows at. I was throwing knives for about ten minutes, each time hitting exactly where I meant, before Lilly stepped out the door. I was taken by surprise, and my reflexes almost threw a knife into her heart. She happily skipped over to me before trying to throw one of my knives at my dummy. She missed by two and a half feet, but didn't seem to care. "Cato's in the house," s he told me, and again tried to throw one of my knives. I left her so she could keep throwing, and I knew she wouldn't hurt herself. I had taught both Lilly and Elm how to handle a knife safely, and I knew my teachings would be with them for a long time.

When I walked in the doorway, Cato was speaking to my mother about how the coal that had been shipped to District 2 was worthless. Mother complained that it wouldn't burn properly, and he agreed. He looked over and saw me, and the corners of his lips turned upward just in the slightest. He never smiled, except when he was about to beat a school kid that messed with him. He smiled so wickedly when he did this, he usually chased everyone else away. But not me.

My family, plus Cato, all headed down to the square where the reaping would take place. Only Cato and I had to go through the bustling line of kids to get our fingers pricked. The Hunger Games only takes tributes ages twelve to eighteen, which makes Elm and Lilly, who were only eight, safe for a few more years. Cato and I parted ways momentarily. The girls and the boys stand in a different area of the square, separated by a path that lead up to a stage. The stage had four chairs on it, a podium, and two large, circular glass vases, called Reaping Balls. One ball contained a few thousand slips of paper, and on each one was a name of a girl that lived in District 2. Same with the other ball, but it contained the names of the boys of District 2.

Presently, four people came on stage. First, the mayor of our part of the District. I don't really know him all that well, but I do know that he is a balding man with a temper. He holds lots of power, plus he's the richest man for miles, so people have to do what he says. Next, two people, a man and a woman, entered the stage together. They were past victors of District 2. They would be the mentors to the next two tributes, teaching them how to survive. Last, but certainly not the least, was Camie Greenwood.

Camie Greenwood was a plump man with a royal blue tunic and gold trim. He had soft lime green hair, cut to his shoulders, that swayed when he walked. Camie had lots of make up on. Gold glittering eyeliner, matching lip stain, and some rouge the color of roses. He had small star tattoos around his eyes and on the bridge of his nose. This was the way capitol people dressed. They thought it was stylish. The most of the other eleven districts didn't agree, but I knew several people that tried to dress like them as much as they could.

Camie came up to the podium, and smiled. He gave a speech about the history of Panem, our country, then came over to the boy's reaping bowl. He pulled a slip of the bleached paper out of the glass vase, opened it up and smoothed out the crease where it had been folded. He took the few steps needed to get back to the podium, then said in a loud and clear voice, "Dustin Clay."

Dustin didn't even have time to blink before Cato lunged forward and called, "I volunteer." He then looked at me and gave a slight nod. I nodded back and swallowed the lump in my throat. Camie smiled as Cato stepped onto the stage. Next, Camie walked over to the girl's bowl, and drew another name. "Perrie Dunlap," he called.

I saw a girl step out from our group and walked in quick, small steps up to the stage. I could see the fear twinkle in her eyes. I swallowed the lump in my throat again. My stomach was clay. Well, it was now or never. I stepped out from the group of girls, and shouted in the strongest, unafraid voice I could muster , "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"


End file.
